Whiskey
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: After Negan gets too tipsy, his friend Brittney takes it upon herself to be his unofficial guardian.


Negan downed another shot of whiskey, and Brittney did, too, at a slower pace. The Sanctuary was throwing a Christmas party after raiding a seasonal store and deciding to clear out the shelves of fake Christmas trees, fancy glass ornaments, plastic wreaths with red ribbons, and every other kitschy decoration that could be found. It wasn't because Negan was a particularly jolly fellow; in fact, he told her that he flat out hated Christmas. "Bad memories," he sneered by way of explanation, and Brittney was too polite to push when she was sober. Still, he allowed the party because the Sanctuary could use the boost in morale. Hell, they didn't even know if it was Christmas, but there was snow outside, so it was a good enough excuse to drink and be merry. Or in Negan's case, just to drink. Those memories really must be that bad.

After spilling more whiskey on the table as he tried to pour both himself and Brittney another shot, Negan muttered, "Fuck."

"Here, let me do that," Brittney offered, and her palm slid over the back of his hand as she gently wrestled the bottle of Jack Daniels away, trying not to spill any more of the precious amber drops.

Sitting back in his chair, Negan watched her, his dark eyes only slightly glazed but still very alert. Obviously, he wasn't a lightweight. "Shit, would you get a load of Rosa?" He jerked his chin in the Savior's direction where she was currently arm-wrestling Simon and it was unclear who was winning.

"Shit." Brittney echoed him. She pressed her lips together as she watched Rosa toss her dark ringlets, her biceps rippling underneath tanned skin. "Remind me to catch her under the mistletoe later."

"Fuck off, Brittney, I fucking saw her first," Negan lightly slurred and snatched his tumbler from the table to hold the rim against his chin.

"What is this, fucking high school?" Brittney teased, being careful to not to jostle Negan in the ribs too hard with her elbow. "I think the saying goes that all is fair in love and war. So… let the best woman win." She held out her tumbler in a toast and waited until Negan slowly clinked their glasses together before she downed her shot and briskly stood up, smoothing down the purple party dress she bought for just this occasion because it had a pale pink rose pattern the exact shade of her glasses. Flicking her wavy black hair over her shoulder just to show some attitude towards Negan, Brittney strutted over to the ever-widening circle around the ongoing arm-wrestling match. Thank God she had her liquid courage.

Through sheer determination alone, it seemed, Rosa won and a cheer went up around her as Simon's back was pounded with comforting pats. Using the celebration to her advantage, Brittney pushed through the crowd to the front and offered Rosa her leather jacket that was hanging over the back of her chair.

"Great job, champ," Brittney purred, though that was definitely the alcohol speaking through her. "How about a victory kiss?"

With her typical smirk and aggression, Rosa wrapped her arm around Brittney's waist and jerked the shorter girl against her, forcing Brittney's hands to come up and settle on her breasts to steady herself on her tipsy legs. "You wanna put on a show for everyone, Brittney?" Rosa murmured in her deep voice, white teeth flashing dangerously.

Feeling a little exposed, Brittney tilted her head towards one of the clusters of mistletoe. "How about over there instead?"

Without another word, Rosa took her by the hand and marched her through the crowd of whoopers who started caroling "Holly Jolly Christmas", towards one of the free spots under the mistletoe. Once they were properly situated underneath it, Rosa didn't waste any time, diving in for a deep, probing kiss.

Even with as sharp a tongue as she had, Rosa was a damn good kisser. She tasted like peppermint schnapps, which mixed oddly with the whiskey on Brittney's own tongue, but tasted exactly like a naughty Christmas present. While Brittney's fingers ran through Rosa's thick curls, Rosa's hands wandered towards the hemline of her dress that hung about her thick thighs. Rosa's fingertips traced lightly over her skin and teased upwards towards her ass, threatening to expose Brittney's risqué red-ribbon thong to all the Saviors. That was sort of the point though when Brittney picked the thong out.

Brittney was about to pull Rosa away to a more secluded place to continue when she heard a familiar and irritating high-pitched giggle grate against her eardrums. Opening her eyes, but with her bottom lip still caught in Rosa's mouth, Brittney peeked over Rosa's shoulders at the table where she had left her friend and boss Negan. Currently, he had a lapful of blonde pawing at him, fingers dancing up and down the zipper of his leather jacket to inch it down his chest. The blonde pulled at his scarf and tossed it on the table, and Brittney saw Negan reach for it with a frown before the blonde grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest instead. Negan definitely wasn't into it; and he was too drunk to really be able to stop her, short of shoving her to the floor, which was a big no-no.

Noticing Brittney's dying enthusiasm, Rosa's mouth traveled down her jaw to her neck in an effort to regain her interest, not realizing what was wrong. While Rosa's mouth felt so soft and was doing heavenly and sinful things to her, Brittney had a frown on her face and she found herself gently disentangling herself out of Rosa's grip. "Rosa," Brittney started awkwardly, "Rosa, I'm sorry, but…I mean you're hot, but maybe another time?"

Pulling away, Rosa's dark eyes flickered up and down Brittney's face before she followed her glance to where Negan was. Turning back to Brittney, Rosa had her confident smirk back. "So you did want to put on a show?" Brittney blushed and stuttered, but then Rosa unexpectedly took mercy on her. "Go get him, tiger." She patted Brittney's cheek twice and then made her way to the liquor bar.

Head in a daze, Brittney smoothed down her dress as she maneuvered her way through the crowd back to Negan. The closer she got, the more her clarity returned to her as she finally put a name to a face. Karen, a girl just shy a year of being a minor and a worker who did not live up to the title. She was a slacker who coasted by however she could and had tried to audition to be one of Negan's wives at least three times. Negan couldn't stand her, so Brittney had to come to his rescue.

"What the fuck are you doing, Karen?" Brittney resisted the urge to outright drag the girl off Negan's lap by her blonde hair – but only just resisted.

"None of your business, Brittney," Karen sneered and sunk her claws into Negan's shoulders, ignoring his grimace. "You go shove your slut tongue down that bitch's throat. Negan is gonna spend Christmas with me tonight."

"Put a stocking in it. You aren't on the naughty or nice list because you don't deserve shit. Now get off the boss's lap." Brittney jerked her thumb over her shoulder, giving the girl one last chance. This wouldn't end in a cat fight because it was savior versus worker. Karen would never stand a chance.

Switching tactics when she saw Karen just huff at her and sag deeper into Negan's lap despite his stiff posture, Brittney said, "Look, girl, you're probably too young to know this, but the boss has had a lot of liquor tonight, and nothing makes a man less stiff than a stiff drink." At Karen's blank look, Brittney deadpanned, "He's too drunk to get hard. You're better off with your hand tonight, sweetie."

"I…didn't notice." Karen shifted on Negan's lap as if to search for his erection.

Brittney's hands on the girl's upper arms stopped her as she hauled her off his lap to her feet, shoving her away. "Trust me, girl, you'd feel it if he was hard. Now you better skip off. It's past your bedtime." Embarrassed, Karen scurried away, clutching at what was left of her pride.

Once she was gone, Brittney turned back to Negan and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, her other hand zipping back up his jacket again, tucking him away behind his leather armor. Funny that where he found strength and protection, Brittney found an incredible weakness for leather. "You okay there?"

"No," Negan admitted, voice flat. His eyes rolled over to hers, his long eyelashes fluttering against his high cheek bones. It looked like dark smudges against his cheek, and for a moment Brittney was wildly jealous that he didn't have to wear mascara to have such pretty eyes. Then Negan opened his mouth, and Brittney's heart spasmed. "I wanna go home."

"Okay, Negan." Brittney pushed the bottle of Jack away before Negan could reach for it again. Not that it would matter if he did; he had already emptied it after she had left. "Lemme take you home."

Wrapping her arms around him, Brittney helped him to stand and grabbed his scarf, passing it back into his hands. He clutched it like a security blanket, bringing it up to his face before he tucked it into his jacket for safekeeping. Supporting the majority of his weight, Brittney led Negan up the stairs to begin their seven flight climb to his private quarters. Really, it should've been a big beefcake like Simon or one of Negan's supposedly devoted wives who should have helped him, but of course it was Brittney. She may not be a lieutenant, but they were friends, and she wasn't going to let him be alone on Christmas.

The going was slow as Brittney was overly cautious about it, afraid that Negan would just suddenly topple over the railing at any minute and break his neck. Negan didn't seem to care, sagging against her more and more with each step.

"You know why I drink so much around Christmas time, darlin'?" Negan murmured with his nose pressed into her hair. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he spoke, and his breath was as warm and damp as pussy, but smelled like whiskey. Without waiting for her answer, he continued, laughing, "Because if the Griswold's taught me anything about Christmas, it's that you need plenty of fucking Jack Daniels to get through the bullshit."

He laughed harder and started to hiccup, and Brittney was caught somewhere between amusement and sympathy. She squeezed her arms around him tighter, partly as a hug and partly as a way to steady him as they caught their breath. "How about next time we switch you over to eggnog? At least then your breath will smell like cinnamon." Gently, she pushed his face away so she could breathe, and started dragging him up the stairs again. Five more flights.

Snorting, Negan muttered darkly, "Eggnog makes me fucking puke." He stumbled for a moment, but then kept walking. "But if you like cinnamon, I can get a fucking toothpaste." Negan swung his head back to her again, pressing into her personal space, widening his eyes so he could focus on just one of the Brittney's. "Does my breath really smell like shit?"

For a moment, Brittney let herself swim in his dark hazel eyes. Then she patted his stubbled cheek and directed him to look down at his boots again, tugging on his chin. "No, you never have bad breath Negan."

Four more flights, and Negan hiccupped, "Britt!-neyyy." He hiccupped again, "Brittney, did you say I have a small dick earlier?" His long fingers, normally so clever, fumbled as he accidentally tugged at the scooped neckline of her dress, and his eyes slipped down with the movement. Those same clumsy fingers brushed over the tops of her breasts as he fixed it again, and then his eyes dragged back to her face. "Did you fucking call me old?" Like any man's ego, he sounded so insulted and sad.

Grabbing the hand that dangled over her shoulder, Brittney interlocked their fingers and kept walking. "What are you talking about, Negan?" Brittney sighed at him. "You're drunk."

"Yeah," Negan agreed, falling a step behind Brittney as it got harder and harder to lift his feet with his heavy boots on. "Fuck. Why do I live so high up?"

"I dunno. Mile high club, I guess?" Brittney stopped again for him, looking first down at where the floor seemed so far away and then up to where Negan's floor was, also so far away. Damn, she was tired, and even the few shots of whiskey she took were catching up to her.

At Brittney's joke, Negan snorted and giggled. "Yeah…" he dragged out. On a dime, his mood changed again. "I really fucking hate Katherine."

"Her name is Karen, actually, and yeah, I know you hate her." They started walking again. Three more flights. "If you hate her, why did you let her crawl all over you?" Brittney immediately cringed at her own question. He was drunk. She shouldn't be letting her jealousy get the better of her. Wait – jealousy?

Shrugging, Negan sighed, the sound so long and loud it was like it came from his very toes and the soles of his feet. "Why the fuck should I? Not like anyone else would go to bed with me tonight?"

Scoffing, Brittney lectured him, "Well, firstly, but no one should go to bed with you when you're drunk, Negan. Secondly, you've got like five or six wives, right? I'm sure you could've caught one of them in the mood. Thirdly, even if you didn't want a wife, there's plenty of men and women down there who'd love a roll in the sheets with you. So try again, because self-pity? Not your fucking style."

With something like a whine, Negan reached up and pawed at her hip. "Slow down, darlin', please." His palm slid down the curve of her ass and down the back of her thigh to her knee, the action ticklish and making Brittney squeak and pull her leg away. "Your dress is riding up." Precariously, Negan kneeled on the stairs and tugged at the hemline of her dress helpfully. "There. Don't want nobody seeing your ass."

Laughing, Brittney swatted away his hands and helped him to his feet again to continue dragging him along. Guiding drunk Negan was definitely worse than herding cats. "Actually, I was trying to get someone to see my ass."

"Rosa," Negan snarled with more heat than Brittney expected. "She's getting guard duty for a fucking month."

"Excuse me, but I thought you liked Rosa?" Two more flights. "Don't tell me you're punishing her because she picked me over you. Come on, you know she'd never go for your ass when you're drunk Negan. And if you try putting her on guard duty that long, you know she's just gonna kick your ass."

Negan started mumbling something, but he was slurring his words so bad at this point that Brittney was having trouble understanding him. He said something about deserving? That Rosa deserved it or that Brittney deserved better? She honestly couldn't tell.

Eventually, he trailed off and started rubbing at her neck, his fingers massaging her tense muscles so well that she groaned. "You got some lipstick there, darlin'." He explained, and then his hands dropped back down to his sides again, dangling there uselessly.

They had one more flight and Negan was slowing down again. "Brittney," he huffed and puffed, "Brittney, you wanna know why I didn't kick Katie to the curb?"

"Karen," Brittney corrected him again, "And yeah, I kinda wanna know."

"Because," Negan said and then stopped.

Brittney shot him a look, swiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. They were so high up now that they hot air was nearly suffocating. Since it was the dead of winter, they were keeping the heat up for the benefit of the lower floors, but Negan and the wives were definitely paying the consequence. "Because why?"

"Because I wanted you fucking jealous."

Shooting him another look, Brittney practically dragged him off the stairs and down the hall, breathing a sigh of relief that he didn't take a tumble. "That's fucking stupid, Negan. I'm not jealous. You're my friend; and you're already married. Why would I be jealous?"

While Brittney unlocked his door and led them inside his room, Negan dragged his feet behind her. "I was fucking jealous of Rosa," he said as if that explained everything.

Disentangling herself from him, Brittney watched to make sure he wouldn't immediately topple over, her hands hovering anxiously and protectively in the air. When all he did was sway side to side, she put her fingers to her temples and massaged vigorously. "Jesus, Negan." The alcohol was starting to hit her now. Fuck, she was not looking forward to the migraine tomorrow. Thinking ahead, she went and pulled his curtains tightly in place, saving herself the trouble that the morning light would bring.

When she turned around, she startled with Negan right there and his hands came up to her face, pushing hers aside. "Let me do that." He started massaging her temples, his face pinched in concentration as he studied her face. "You're taking care of me. Let me take care of you."

"Negan." Brittney attempted to encircle his wrists with her fingers, but she couldn't close them together. When she tugged, though, his hands immediately fell limp, pliant to her touch. "Negan, you need to go to bed."

Again, he whined and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as he attempted to bury into her neck, his nose brushing against her skin and snuffling like a dog. "Please, please don't make me." Automatically her arms came up to wrap around his waist again, not understanding what was wrong. "I hate waking up alone on Christmas."

"Come on, Negan. I'll stay with you." Brittney led him to his bed, encouraging him to sit. He didn't fight her when she unzipped his jacket and pulled it off of him. His red scarf dropped to his lap and he wrapped it around his hands, staring at it. She took his jacket to the armchair and spread it out, and then returned to take off his boots. Negan was still staring at the scarf.

As she started unlacing his boots, Negan started talking. "This scarf was my wife's. Her name was Lucille." Brittney's eyes darted to the bat in the corner. She had always suspected that it was named after his wife. Some people guessed that it might've been his daughter's name or something, but with the way he talks about the bat and how it has a pussy, Brittney thought that theory was horseshit. "Lucille wore this scarf after her hair started falling out. It was the last Christmas gift I gave her."

"Her hair started falling out?" Brittney questioned. Had Lucille been an older woman?

"Cancer."

Oh. Brittney immediately felt guilty for asking because she knew he was going to be furious about that tomorrow. She tugged his boots off, and then wrinkled her nose as the smell of sweaty socks hit her nose. He saw her look and pouted. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm sure Rosa's feet stink, too."

She pulled his socks off because it was so warm up here, she doubted that he'd need them. Once his toes were free, he wiggled them. "I can't feel my toes." He pulled his feet into bed and attempted to slide under the covers even though he was lying on top of them.

"Sit up, Negan. Let me help you." Brittney wrestled with Negan's belts and let him kick his pants down his legs until she gathered them up and tossed them in the dirty clothes hamper alongside his socks. Rather than getting under the covers, though, Negan gave up and just sprawled on his back, blearily staring at her.

"Are you coming to bed?"

"Yeah, give me a minute." Brittney went to Negan's bathroom to take off her bra and critically examine herself in the mirror. After she saw that her breasts weren't in danger of popping out, she shrugged and figured she'd sleep in the dress. On her way back to the bed, her flats were kicked off and she shoved at Negan's once she reached him. "Move over. I prefer the left."

"Okay," he grumbled and obediently rolled over like a dog.

Once she climbed in behind him, she took her glasses off and set them on the bedside table. Brittney spooned against Negan's back and smoothed her hand down his chest in a soothing, repetitive gesture. "Now go to sleep, Negan."

"But I'm not fucking tired."

She sighed. Well, you could lead Negan to bed, but you can't get him to sleep in it. "What do you want me to do? Recite _The Night Before Christmas_ from memory or something?"

"I don't know." Negan arched his body back into her, sliding one leg backwards until it was wedged between hers. The action made her dress ride up and her breath hitched when the back of his thigh, only partly encased in his boxers, slid against her damp pussy. He didn't comment on it, not seeming to notice, and instead tilted his head back until it was pillowed on her chest. "Just talk to me, darlin'."

Running her fingers through Negan's hair, Brittney was surprised that it didn't feel greasy with hair product, but actually very fine and soft like downy feather. "I'll make you a deal, Negan. I'll sing you a song and no matter how bad it is, you promise you'll go to sleep afterwards. Alright?"

Reaching behind him with the hand was wasn't clutching the scarf, Negan rubbed Brittney's exposed thigh. "Okay, Brittney. I promise."

Thinking of a song, Brittney picked one of her favorite musician's Christmas song. " _Step into Christmas, let's join together. We can watch the snow fall forever and ever. Eat, drink and be merry, come along with me. Step into Christmas, the admission's free_." It felt weird to sing the song this way because it was usually so upbeat, but she could only remember the chorus and it was the best she could when she was so tired.

Brittney started to repeat the chorus when the sound of Negan's deep snores drifted across her ears, and she took it as permission to fall asleep.

When she woke the next morning, it was because her skin was uncomfortably chilled due to the fine layer of sweat. Her hair was caught in her mouth, and there was drool on her pillow. More importantly, her party dress had been rucked up all the way underneath her armpits, leaving her breasts exposed and only her precariously tied red-ribbon thong preserving her modesty. Negan's arms were around her waist and his cheek was pillowed on her breasts, his hot breath tickling over her nipples. She shifted, and then realized that the apex of her thighs was sticky with sleepy arousal. "Shit," she muttered, and tried to further pull herself away, but one of her arms was trapped under Negan's body, tingling with numbness.

Her rocking motions caused Negan to stir with a groan of discomfort. "Fuck," he muttered, and then Brittney watched in a strangely removed kind of mortification as Negan's long eyelashes fluttered against her skin and his eyes finally opened. Instantly, his eyes fell on her rosy, erect nipple, and even though he doubtlessly had a pounding headache and hangover, Negan wouldn't be Negan unless he cracked a dirty joke. "Well, merry fucking Christmas to me."

"Shut up," Brittney mumbled, ignoring the blush in her cheeks. "Can you let me up?"

Negan's eyes flickered over Brittney's face and then down her flushing, heaving chest and further down to her stomach, hips, and thighs. Once his gaze landed on her thong, he immediately sat up and let out a whistle. "Shit, girl! Are you sure Santa didn't drop you off for me? Because you look like you're ready to be unwrapped."

Sitting up against the headboard, Brittney pushed her dress back down. "Stop teasing, Negan. We're friends."

He went quiet and Brittney avoided looking at him by needlessly fumbling with the hemline of her dress. "We are friends," he agreed, his tone slow and thoughtful with consideration, "but fuck, darlin'. I didn't think you'd be so damn blind."

"What are you talking about?" Brittney swiped at her hair and her face, squinting in the general direction of the bedside table for her glasses.

His hand on her cheek pulled her face back in his direction, and Brittney wasn't prepared for Negan's mouth to come crashing down on hers. He kissed so differently from Rosa. Whereas Rosa's kissing was purposeful and controlling, Negan's was probing, searching, with a note of hopefulness. Kissing Negan was like taking a sip of wine and squishing it around your mouth, noting the flavors of sweetness and desperation and passion and whiskey and something just him.

When Negan pulled back, Brittney opened her eyes, not realizing when she closed them. He was a bit too far away for her to able to see his expression, and she leaned in for compensation. His lower lip – swollen from their kiss – was trapped between teeth as he worried at it. Negan's eyes were half-lidded, roving over her face anxiously. Wow. She made Negan nervous. Her gaze dropped to his lap where his erection was clearly outlined beneath his navy boxers. Well, shit. She made Negan hard.

"You really do like me, huh?" Brittney sounded vaguely surprised and distant as she was still coming to terms with it.

"Fuck yes," Negan growled, and she half expected him to go in for a kiss again, but he was holding himself back for her.

There were so many things to consider. His wives. Her position as a Savior. Their friendship. How far would this go. But Brittney didn't want to have to talk about it. She'd rather just see where this goes. She doesn't need any love confessions. After so long of being friends, going further would be just fine with her.

Swinging her leg over Negan's lap, she pushed him back into the mattress and stole a kiss of her own. "Unwrap your present, Negan," her mouth traveled towards his ear and she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth until he groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest beneath her palms. "For Christmas, you can have all of me."

With a small whimper, Negan pulled her back in for another kiss and started pushing her dress up her body again. Brittney pulled away just far enough to strip off her dress and then her mouth was back on his skin again, tasting his sweat and the faint bitterness of his cologne that had almost entirely faded from last night. It felt like Negan's hands were everywhere, running down her sides and tickling her hip bones. They were greedy, cupping over her breasts to flick her needy nipples and then squeezing her ass to pull her cheeks apart, causing the thong to slide against her more intimately. In a few quick tugs, the ribbon came undone, and Brittney was completely naked on top of him.

Sitting up on top of him, Brittney ground her pussy over his clothed erection, gasping at the much-needed friction on her clit. Below her, Negan was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt her juices soak through the thin material and mix with his precome. "Fuck, you feel amazing, Brittney." He opened his eyes and gazed up at her with nothing short of devotion. "And you look beautiful."

Brittney very much doubted that. Her hair was tangled from sleep, and the makeup she had put on for the party yesterday was smeared. The lipstick she had been wearing was completely gone on thanks to Rosa, and somehow Brittney felt even more naked without it. But with the way Negan was looking at her, she supposed that he must be right. She was beautiful.

"You're a little too overdressed to be beautiful," she countered back. "Right now, you're just handsome."

"I better fix that then, huh?" Negan teased and sat up so he could pull off his shirt. Brittney let him, admiring his tanned skin as it was revealed inch by blessed inch. The smattering of dark chest hair stole her attention for a bit as she leaned forward and worshiped his flat nipples with her mouth, tugging them with her teeth until he was bucking his hips up into the cradle of her thighs.

When Negan went to tug his boxers down his legs, she smacked his hands away so she could have the honor for herself. His dick was cut, long, and not as thick as she was used to. But compared to the area of dicks she's seen in her life, his was definitely the prettiest. Not every man could have a pretty dick and mouthwatering balls, but of course a man like Negan had to be blessed with that. She ducked her head so she could take his dick into her mouth, but Negan stopped her, tugging her back up to straddle him. "I'm not gonna last if you use your mouth. Ride me, baby."

Well, she didn't have to be told twice. Taking him in hand, she slotted him between her lips, lathering him with wetness for a smoother glide. After teasing the both of them, she lowered herself down until he was fully seated inside. Their air rang with their cries and heavy breathing as they adjusted to the sensation.

"Move," Negan begged, thrusting into her with guiding hands on her hips.

"Oh, fuck," Brittney moaned, and rocked herself against him, grinding her clit against his pubic bone. They were both close already, too caught up in the feeling to try and make it last. But it was Christmas and they could have the whole day for that. "Mm, Negan. I'm gonna come."

"Me, too," he groaned against her neck and pounded into her hard. "Can I come inside?"

"Fill me up." Brittney's fingers tugged hair on his hair and then she scrabbled her nails down his back, digging in hard enough to break the skin as the first waves of her orgasm started washing over her. "Come deep in my pussy, Negan."

"Yes!" Negan fucked her through her orgasm, holding her up once her quivering thighs and weak knees couldn't support her anymore, and he rammed into her over and over. He prolonged her orgasm, and then came into her like she wanted, pumping her so full until she dripped over him like icing on cinnamon buns.

They collapsed on the bed together, too sated and tired to do anything other than breathe and weakly kiss each other's skin wherever they could reach. Of course, Negan was the first one to break the silence. "Merry Christmas, Brittney."

Huffing out a laugh, Brittney let herself snuggle under Negan's arm, her ear over his sternum. "Merry Christmas, Negan."


End file.
